


In the Beginning, There was Death

by TheDarkRat



Series: War!Darcy [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Dark, F/M, Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse - Freeform, Magic, No Christian Allegories, Snickerdoodle Cookies, Vaguely Based of Good Omens' version of the Horsemen, but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-17
Updated: 2017-06-17
Packaged: 2018-11-15 06:57:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11225688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDarkRat/pseuds/TheDarkRat
Summary: In the beginning, there was Death. First, last, and always. Then the others appeared. The order never mattered, for it would always vary depending on whom you asked. But they existed and they belonged to Death in the way the Earth belongs to the Sun - orbiting, revolving, and owing their entire existence.





	In the Beginning, There was Death

**Author's Note:**

> Unbetaed. I do not own Marvel's characters.

In the beginning, there was Death. First, last, and always. Then the others appeared. The order never mattered, for it would always vary depending on whom you asked. But they existed and they belonged to Death in the way the Earth belongs to the Sun - orbiting, revolving, and owing their entire existence. 

All roamed the earth doing what they were born and bred to do. Through the ages their methods, their visages, their missions changed. But, at the core, they were the same as the day they appeared. They were the lead in the cups of wine in Rome. They were the fleas on the rats that stowed away on ships. They were the blighted potatoes. The mustard gas and agent orange. The mills belching coal and orphans. They were the roar of cannons, the sweet taste of antifreeze, the dusty plain that should have yielded grain, the silent spring. 

They were formless until they weren’t. Guileless until they were. Sneaky when they wanted. And ostentatious when they needed. 

They slipped into avatars, normal humans in the thick of things, during times when their powers were at their greatest. Famine wore a British uniform while potatoes rotted in the ground. Pestilence helped drag bodies to plague pits. War watched the mushroom cloud bloom in the desert. Death stood silent, invisible, watching, working, collecting, being, always. 

+++++ 

“I am not dying for 6 college credits!” Darcy yelled as she tried to jerk the pinzgauer out of the way of the freak tornado-like storm. It had seemed like a good rallying cry at the time. 

But as the naked man stood, babbling about his hammer, Darcy - girl of the 21st century, pop culture whiz, poli-sci undergrad, scientist wrangler - became War, avatar of change, of blood, of violence and upheaval. She tazed him.  
“What? He was freaking me out.” 

+++++

“Smile!” Darcy who was not held up her cellphone and snapped a picture. Thor grinned through a mouthful of pancake. 

She watched through ageless eyes as the jack-booted thugs stole Jane’s machinery and research. The angry scientist roiling with righteous fury made Darcy smile. Anger was fuel for the fire of war.  
“Gimmie back my iPod!” 

+++++

The Destroyer came to Puente Antiguo. Darcy’s blood sang in harmony with the explosions and fire. This was only the beginning.  
“I gotta rescue the puppy!” 

+++++

“Farewell Lady Jane. Farewell my Lightning Sister. I will return shortly.” Dust swirled around their boots. War thought she’d leave this vessel, now the god was gone. But her consciousness clung on. There would be more where that came from, evidently. With a shrug, War settled in. 

+++++

War felt the Battle of New York her in bones, they rattled, they shook, and thrummed with excitement. Darcy hacked SHIELD and together her and Jane watched behemoths descend from the sky. War wanted nothing more than to be in the center of the battle, to wield a sword against a foe once more, to mete out death and mayhem as she did in antiquity. But the warp and weft of the world kept her vessel in Norway with the astrophysicist. More must be coming. 

+++++

“Welcome to Stark Tower, Dr. Foster.” The tall, strawberry blonde in the smart business suit held out an exquisitely manicured hand. Jane shook it absent-mindedly as she surveyed her new lab space. It was large, shiny, new, and bleeding edge. It was perfect.  
“Thanks Ms. Potts,” Darcy said as Jane wandered off into the lab.  
“Please, call me Pepper.”  
“She’s gonna be distracted until I wave a poptart under her nose.” Pepper nodded knowingly.  
“Let me or JARVIS know if you need anything.”  
“I will, thank you again!” Darcy waved energetically as Pepper turned to go. War loved this building. It hummed with an energy she hadn’t felt since Oppenheimer. Destruction, violence and upheaval. It was all here. And here she was, in the middle of it. 

+++++

One by one Darcy met the Avengers. First it was Dr. “Please-Call-Me-Bruce” Banner. His lab was the other half of the floor. As they shook hands his eyes flashed a brilliant green, and War grinned like a cat with a canary. 

Then it was Agent Arms, Clint Barton, of New Mexico fame. War met him in the kitchen. She saw the effects of Loki on him like a shroud. This would not do. War that was Darcy gave him a hug and leached the magic and shell-shock off the archer. Her soldiers needed to be at the top of their game. She also gave him a Nerf gun. 

+++++

Next, it was the Black Widow. War actually drooled a little when seeing her up close for the first time. Here was a worthy vessel. A creature born, bred, and built for War. If rumors were to be believed that was one of the many aims of the Red Room. To create the perfect vessel in order to court the powers of the world. That it never worked did not quash the rumors. 

Darcy immediately grabbed the Widow in a hug, surprising the Russian. But War did not move from one to the other. She stayed in Darcy. As a consolation the woman coolly raised a perfect eyebrow.  
“Meet me at the gym tomorrow morning at 6. We’ll start your training.” 

+++++

Then Thor, when he returned from Asgard. Darcy greeted him enthusiastically. The first met in her new band of warriors.  
“You are not as you seem.” He said quietly.  
“Neither are you, Big Guy.”  
“Do you wish harm on Jane?”  
“Nah, dude. Where Jane goes, so does my nation.”  
“Then we are settled.” And he hugged her. 

+++++

Tony appeared one day in Bruce’s lab. All puff and bluster. But War knew him for what he was. He vibrated with sound of a spear in flight, the rattle of mail. He smelled of blood, of iron, of gunpowder. His hands created weapons used in her name. She was drawn to him like a moth to flame. Darcy folded him into her scientist wrangling and if she paid him a little extra attention, no one noticed. 

+++++

She was not in the country he was created in. No. She had been in the countries he was sent to. Her hands trailed over Hydra’s blue lighting, the German tanks, the English dog-fighters. She was in the trenches and in the air. She was the earth, torn up with blood, mud, and death. She laughed as machine guns fired. She smiled as snipers fired one by one. 

She remembered him. All red, white, and blue. Full of justice and morality. He threw his shield and she was giddy. He torched a whole factory and she sighed like a love-sick school girl. When he was lost she knew he was not gone. For in her domain, she knew the score of life and death. She was not Death, but she did cause it. She knew. All three of them knew. 

When Captain America came back to the tower, she felt it. Like the shiver of vibration on a cymbal. Here was the last of, the best of, her soldiers, home to roost. Darcy baked snickerdoodle cookies and presented them.  
“Welcome home, Cap.” Her smile broad, friendly, vaguely familiar.  
“Call me Steve.” He smiled politely. The cookies smelled delicious.  
“I made you some cookies, Steve.” She thrust the plate at him. “As a welcome home present.”  
“Welcome home?” He sounded lost, confused, tired. His hand touched hers as he took the tray. 

A spark. He knew her. Red lips, dark hair. She had been Peggy for a while in Europe, to watch the newest creation. War had loved him. Before the serum he was a scrapper, a fighter, a survivor. It didn’t matter to her what he fought for, only that he did. After the serum, he took to the theater of war like a prima ballerina and Tchaikovsky. He planned. He fought. He killed. 

Though there had been thousands of soldiers that fought and killed in her name, this one was special. He wasn’t created like Natasha, against her will until her will was theirs. Or like Stark, brilliant but brittle until he cracked and was forged anew. Or even Banner, an avatar of rage and fear. All of them would have chosen differently if the cards were dealt another way. 

But not Steve. Steve Rogers had wanted to go to war. In his heart of hearts he wanted to be strong. He wanted to stick up for the little guy. He did that with his fists, his booted feet, with trash can lids. Anything and everything at hand became a weapon to him and that included himself. He was a good man, but he wanted to be what War was. Strong. Invincible. Alive. 

Here was her champion. Her was her leader of her soldiers. Here was why War was Darcy and Darcy was War. 

“Yes, Captain. Welcome home.” They smiled together, like knives in the dark.

**Author's Note:**

> This plot bunny bit me late last night. It started off with Darcy is War! and then that first paragraph just tumbled out of my head fully formed. I had to write it down. 
> 
> I'm pleased with this work. But admittedly, I only wrote it in a couple of hours. 
> 
> Throw a comment or two. ;)


End file.
